"Good afternoon madam, have you got a minute?"
"You look like you've got a happy face. Got a mo?"
"Hey hey! Could you spare a moment for a good cause?"
May the deity of your choice send mercy - the chuggers are out in the middle of Fleet. And this one's particularly keen, with a huge cardboard cut-out of the cutest kitten you've ever seen behind him, a shiver is sent down my spine as I realise that they're now allowed to use props.
This is bad. Worse, even, as that business with the Gideons that resulted in the the untimely deaths of all those Gideons, and I gird myself for the onslaught of good cheer mixed with guilt-tripping as the chugger tries to relieve me of my bank details.
"Hey!" he says with a smile on his face, "You having a good day?"
I am about to say that I was having an excellent day right up to the moment that our paths crossed, when I realise one important detail: He is addressing the shopper behind me.
THE SHOPPER BEHIND ME.
He looked right through me, decided on the spot that I was a dead loss, and went for the shopper behind me. What's wrong with me? Am I invisible or something? Do I look like a potential Death of Chuggers? At the risk of sounding classist - DO I LOOK POOR?
Anger welled up inside me. Anger enough to whip around and vent my rage direct into his all-too-cheerful face: "My scorn not good enough for you? WHY WON'T YOU CHUG ME?"
I almost nearly said something, but went into Waitrose instead.